Whene’er that time shall be—
I do not want no patent thing,
A-squealin’ over me.
In later years, of course, the Baptists became almost civilized and most of their churches bought organs; in some there were even pianos. But in few of the churches of the Farmington countryside, in my early youth, was there more fervent religion on tap than at Colony Church. There were frequent revivals, and many basket dinners, when the farm women brought huge quantities of food to the church early in the morning, and all day long the congregation gave itself up to an orgy of eating and saving souls. At most of these revivals there were foot-washings; they were usually announced at the morning service for the afternoon, and then there was a great scurrying home or to the nearest creek, or crick, as it was generally called, where the feet were washed vigorously with soap and made presentable for public exposure in the aisles and around the pulpit of the church.
One of the most famous of the Colony Church foot-washings, one that is still talked about when the good Brothers and Sisters get together in that neighborhood, ended the enmity of a widow, Sister Letts, and a lawyer whose name I do not recall. For years there had been great bitterness between them, and although the congregation had prayed for them and had exhorted them to forgive, the Lord had not entered their hearts, and so they continued to treasure their hate. But at length, on a Sunday morning during a revival, the preacher announced that there would be a foot-washing that afternoon, and the Brother rose and spoke:
“I have opened my heart to God,” he said, “and He has instructed me to forgive Sister Letts. This afternoon I shall wash her feet.”
There was a murmur of enthusiasm all over the church, and one leather-lunged Brother popped to his feet and shouted: “Amen, Brother! Glory to God!” And then Sister Letts bounced to her feet and cried that she, too, praised the Lord and would wash the feet of the Brother.
That afternoon the church was crowded. Almost every family of the countryside was on hand to see God end this bitter quarrel which had come so near to disrupting the congregation. The service proceeded as usual, opening with some such catchy hymn as “Bringing in the Sheaves,” and then through the sermon to the slow, solemn songs like “How Firm a Foundation” and “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” Then came the foot-washing, when the Brothers and Sisters proved their humility and showed that when it came right down to brass tacks they were no better than Jesus Christ. It was felt that the legal Brother and Sister Letts should have the honor thus to show off first before God, and so for a little while no one moved when the Preacher announced that the time had come, and that basins of water and towels would be provided.
But at length the Brother got to his feet and marched stiffly down the aisle to the pulpit, where he procured a pan and a towel. With these in hand he paraded back up the aisle toward the last row, where Sister Letts rocked back and forth and murmured in ecstasy:
“Praise the Lord, Brother! Praise the Lord!”